Seven Times Forsaken
by Gideon Moriattis
Summary: What if all you had to do to be reincarnated was to take someone's hand? Tom Riddle Jr., years after his death, is reincarnated into his nine year-old body. However, every memory of his previous life has vanished alongside the alias of Lord Voldemort. How will he be affected by a world where the man he had been is both a monster and a memory?
1. Prophecy

_With the night begins the day_

_with the dusk begins the dawn;_

_when ashes turn to flame_

_and lightening strikes the darkness,_

_seven sins performed,_

_seven times forsaken,_

_will rise within the light_

_and consume it from within._

-Prophecy by Magnus Dent, 1941


	2. Prologue

_What if you had the chance start again?_

After years of darkness, the blind man saw. He opened his eyes and saw- but he wasn't sure he liked it. Seven faces stared back at him; each a different age, but each his own. He turned slowly, examining each in turn, feeling a painful twinge within his chest with every met gaze. His eyes lingered on the last, the eldest, and a hand went involuntarily to his own face, tracing contours identical to those of the one before him. There was more feeling in him now than he could ever remember there being, and while he felt no remorse, he could not his grotesque fascination with the event unfolding.

"_Is this what I'd become?"_

His voice. He could hear it, but couldn't feel himself speaking the words, though his lips- he was sure- had moved. There was no vibration in his throat to assure him that he had spoken aloud.

_What if you had the chance to start again?_

This he heard as clearly as if he himself were speaking again. The lips of the figure before him moved, but the sound moved through the air without a source.

"_What do you mean?"_

Again the feeling of speaking without a voice.

_What if you could do it all over?_

He thought back on his life... and his death.

_What if all you had to do was make a choice?_

This time the lips of the oldest figure did not move. The voice was eerily familiar; a voice he knew at once, but had not heard for decades. The man turned, looking to see which of his selves had spoken. None would meet his eyes, except... once he had turned in a full circle, the eldest and youngest of his selves parted, and another stepped into the space. The speaker looked at the man he would grow to be calmly, and spoke again, the words this time unmistakably coming from his mouth.

"What if all you had to do was take my hand?"

He knew the cost. He knew the risk. He knew he had no way to be sure of the outcome. And... he knew the lure was too great to resist; to be able to cheat again as he had so many times before, and in doing so gain the opportunity to do so again, and again, and again.

He took the hand of his nine year-old self.


	3. Chapter 1

May 2nd, 2002

It had been a long day for Robert Keene. Hands in his pockets, he trudged up the forest path to his home. He was fortunate (or unfortunate; it changed from day to day) enough to work for the Ministry of Magic as an Obliviator. The job wasn't often as demanding as it had been that day, but when it's decided that a single group of Obliviators can manage oh, say... _100_ muggles being terrorized by a... a- well, he still didn't really know _what_ it had been. Some sort of manticore-sphinx hybrid he supposed. Accidental Magic Reversal was there, along with people from Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the Obliviators... and he thought he had seen a few Aurors as well, though he wasn't quite sure. He hadn't had time to check while he was running around trying to round up panicking muggles. It was a mess.

This in mind, it was no wonder that he wasn't looking forward to the walk home. His wife, Heather, would not allow him to Apparate within a mile of their house at night, to make sure he didn't wake their five year old daughter, Erin, with the noise it made. His son would be up still though, he thought, smiling slightly. Callum would demand to be told about the day's events, as he did any time his father worked later than usual. The soon-to-be ten year-old would be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the next year, and Robert had high hopes that the boy would be in his old house, Ravenclaw.

Occupied with thoughts of the family waiting for him at home, and the meal he hoped his wife had kept hot for him, Robert managed to cover over half the distance to his house. It was then, just under half a mile from home, that he noticed something- or rather, some_one_ in his way. Crouched in the path not twenty feet away was a person. A very small person. Robert drew his wand and cast a shield around himself before approaching warily.

"Who are you?" he called.

The figure jumped at the sound of his voice, and spun around to face him. Robert could see now that it was a young boy- he couldn't have been any older than Callum. The boy was dressed in worn muggle clothing, which seemed at odds with the hooded black cloak around his shoulders which was obviously intended for a full grown man. The extra length of it was gathered and draped over his arms. His feet were bare, but still remarkably clean. Robert found this odd considering that it had rained earlier in the day, and the ground was still muddy. The boy's hair was jet black and short, neatly combed flat. The darkness of his hair and clothing made his pale skin almost glow in the moonlight. He stared at Robert, dark eyes filled with distrust and confusion.

"Who are you?" Robert repeated, edging cautiously towards the boy.

"Who are you?" the child asked in response, young voice smooth and even.

"My name is Robert Keene. What are you doing here?"

Robert seriously doubted that the boy could simply be lost. The Keenes' house- and the path to it- were close to the center of a dense pine forest, far from any towns or roads. If he _was_ lost, he was _very_ lost. The boy watched him for a minute before he replied, and Robert was vaguely reminded of someone gauging a threat.

"I don't know."

This simple statement was enough to make Robert raise both eyebrows. "Well how did you get here?" The kid couldn't have walked; if he had, his feet would be covered in the mud from the forest and the path... unless he had shoes but for some reason had hidden them nearby?

"I don't know."

Robert narrowed his eyes slightly, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. The child didn't seem to be lying- the pure bewilderment in his eyes couldn't be faked- but... "Are you lost?"

The boy frowned. "I seem to be."

"Where do you live? Who are your parents?"

The boy hesitated, and Robert anticipated his response.

"I don't... I don't remember."

"Do you remember anything at all?" Robert had come as close as he dared to the child, and now knelt before him, ignoring the mud happily clinging to the knees of his pants.

"Not really," the boy shook his head.

"Here," Robert placed his hand gently on the child's shoulder, "my house is just a bit down this path; you can spend the night with us. We'll take you to the Ministry and find your family tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright," the boy nodded.

Robert stood and took a moment to try in vain to brush some of the dirt off of his knees. He reached down and took the boy's hand gently, ready to lead him down the path, but before doing so paused and looked back at the boy.

"You don't remember your name do you?"

The boy frowned for a minute in concentration. A minute later, his features relaxed, and he looked up at the older man, smiling slightly.

"I- my name is Tom."


End file.
